Maybe, For you
by Artie Fowl
Summary: Suddenly he missed drugs and alcohol very much. Everything was much easier when he didn't give a f*ck.  Rated for language.


It was kind of funny, the way it happened.

Wilson was gone on a weekend long conference and House had the loft to himself. Of course House took the opportunity to go ahead and call up some brief... _company_. It had been a while and he wasn't getting any younger.

What he hadn't expected was Wilson coming home, early on day two of his three day weekend, because his flight was delayed and had to return because of a nasty snow storm that had come up seemingly from nowhere. Apparently he spent the last night at the airport, snowed in all around.

It was okay when Wilson opened the bedroom door – without knocking, he might add – to find House with his "friend", a particularly soft skinned, brown haired prostitute, which of whom he was currently letting ride him.

Really it was okay. Wilson knew House liked prostitutes. Everyone did.

However, when most people thought of House with a prostitute, they probably all assumed they were women. _Jokes on them,_ he guessed.

"_House_!"

The two bodies in the bed turned to find a surprised Wilson standing in the doorway – why is it when this happens no one ever hears the door? – and the younger man slipped from between House's legs; quickly covering up his shame. House sighed, defeated, and rose himself up on his elbows as he stared at Wilson over the covers.

"What are you doing home?"

Wilson was flabbergasted and wide-eyed, he put his hands to his face and ran them down it before he yelled, "_What am I do_-? What are _you_ doing in _my_ bed!"

The prostitute looked over to House with a bewildered look on his face as he pulled on his jeans, and then back to Wilson shaking his head as he spoke, "Man, look, I had no idea he was with someone."

Wilson glared at him and pointed at House, his finger shaking angrily in the direction, "He– I– _we_ are _not_ together." He looked back to House who was also getting dressed, too calmly for his liking. The male prostitute scuttled past him and Wilson and presumably out the door, "What... _what the hell is going through your gotdamn mind_?"

"Getting laid, but that's not gonna happen tonight it seems," House's eyes settled on the still form of Wilson in the doorway, "Thanks a lot Wilson."

Wilson sputtered and walked out of the room only to come back seconds later, "Get out. Get the fuck out of my room and take those gotdamn _sheets_ with you."

"Get the sheets a _little_ sticky and everyone suddenly gets all squicked out." House rolled his eyes as he said the last part, grabbing the sheets and yanking them off the bed with his free hand.

"Get _out_!"

"I'm _going_." He said, mocking Wilson's tone, his voice rising on the last word.

"House! _Get out!_"

And he did, the door to Wilson's room slamming just behind him. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and raised his eyes skyward, "Fuck."

* * *

"So, you're saying, you're homosexual."

House blinked, staring out the window of Nolan's office. He sighed after a moment, bringing his hand to his face, rubbing his tired eyes. He hated how he was always finding himself here nowadays. "No," He began, "I'm not gay."

"But you've said you have had sexual experiences with men."

House nodded, "Yeah. I like having sex with men. And women."

"So you're bisexual."

"Always with the name calling. Didn't your mother tell you if you had nothing nice to say, to not say anything at all?"

"Apparently your mother never said the same to you. Now, explain what you mean."

House huffed, "Labels."

"I don't understand." Nolan said, sitting back in his chair, lacing his fingers together in his lap.

"That's all they are. Our subconscious desire to label everything and tuck it away neatly." House stared out the window again, watching the birds fly by. He turned back to him speaking childishly, "I don't care he has a 'wee wee' like me." He smirked, "A guy is fine too."

His therapist nodded, deciding to go over House's seemingly denial of his own sexuality later, "So, what does this have to do with anything?"

House's eyes darted to meet Nolan's for a moment before returning to the window. He swallowed and they sat in silence for a few moments.

Minutes passed and Nolan's eyes seemed to bore holes into House's frame, right up until he just couldn't stand it any longer, "Say something!" He yelled, and immediately wish he hadn't. The smug look on Nolan's face – he wanted to knock it clean off.

"I'm just here to listen to you."

He snorted, "You already know why I'm telling you."

"No, I won't know _why_ until you _tell_ me."

"Come on, you know already!"

Nolan smirked, "Alright, maybe I do."

"Then you say it."

"I want to hear _you_ say it."

"Why do you gotta make this so hard?"

"It's my _job_ to get you to open up about the things that bother you."

"Yeah well," House glared him, "Sometimes you could help me out."

"Alright. You like Wilson. It's possible your feelings have even gone beyond that, you might even love him." House's eyes went wide a bit, a little surprised to hear what he had been feeling come from another persons mouth, "Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"Why do you make me talk about this crap when you already know it?"

"Because – "

House cut him off speaking over him loudly, "I know, it's your job, yadda, yadda."

"Alright then. I think it's a bad idea."

House looked at him confused, "Because... he's got a penis? Trust me, the way Wilson acts, sometimes I forget."

"No, I just don't think it's a good idea to get involved with him."

"Why?"

"Is Wilson gay?"

He snorted, "I told you – "

Nolan cut him off, "Is he _actually_ gay? Has he had interest in men before?"

House hung his head slightly, "Not that I'm aware of. I mean, we joke around about it..."

"So you're willing to hit on him based off of a few jokes?"

"I never said I was going to do anything!" House yelled suddenly, "I just told you... I was attracted to him."

"In a sexual manner."

House nodded, leering close to Nolan, "Yup. I want his penis in my butt."

It was really hard for Nolan to not react to that statement. Sighing he stood, "We're done here."

"Because of what I'd like to stick up my ass?"

"No, because you're not taking this seriously."

"I am taking this seriously. What more do you want me to say?" House gestured to him, "You want me to tell you my feelings, and I do that. You tell me it's a bad idea, ask me what I'm going to do about it, and I say nothing. Because I can't do anything. Wilson isn't gay, he may seem like it, but I'm sure the minute I take off my pants, he'll realize I lack a vagina and head south." He looked to Nolan, "And not my south – south to a hotel room."

"House..."

"Because there's a hotel south of us and all that."

"_House_..."

"What?" He looked upwards at Nolan, his eyes wide, and slightly lost. "What can I do?" House stared out the window again and Nolan stared on in silence. He noticed the birds on a tree branch and watched them dance around each other as Nolan waited patiently for him to speak again. He was beginning to hate these sessions, constantly calling upon him to drum up his feelings and all his shortcomings with them. He only stuck with it because he didn't want to be a miserable bastard any more. It was a few more minutes before House spoke again, softly. "I fucked up."

"What do you mean?"

"He caught me getting it on with some male prostitute."

"So, he knows you like men as well then." He frowned, "Does he normally make a habit of walking in your room without knocking first?"

"Nope." House shook his head, his eyes not leaving the the window and the birds that twittered to each other, as they hopped around on the branches, "It was in his bed."

Nolan's frown deepened as he retook his seat, and without cause, the birds flew away.

* * *

Some help that was.

Nolan always asked more questions than he answered in an effort to try and get House to come up answers on his own. But all that did in the end was leave House with even more questions, and usually no closer to an answer than he was before.

He was about to push his key into the lock of his loft when suddenly the door opened, and Wilson was staring him down, "Where have you been?"

House was slightly taken aback since, for the past week and a half (one week, four days really, but who was counting?) Wilson had been avoiding him, and now was suddenly demanding where he had been. He eased inside the door, forcing Wilson to side step, "Out."

"Where?"

"Why's it matter?" He gave the other man a side-long glance as he shrugged off his jacket.

"It doesn't." Wilson closed the door, locking it. "I was just curious."

"Says the man who's been avoiding me for the last week and a half."

"We need to talk."

"No we don't."

Wilson glared at him, "Yes. We _do_."

"_No_," He elongated the word, but suddenly stopped short when his gaze fell to what Wilson was holding in his hand; his old sheets. "Oh."

"Why did you still have these?"

"You went in my room?"

"To get _my_ sheets."

He eyed Wilson steadily, "I forgot to give them back after washing them. My bad."

Wilson continued to stare at him, undeterred, "Why were they on _your_ bed?"

House pursed his lips, "I figured you weren't gonna be usin'em any time soon."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why the hell were you fucking some prostitute – a _male_ prostitute – in my bed?"

It seems they were gonna have this conversation sooner rather later, of which House was hoping for later, "Does it bother you that it was a guy?"

"Yes! No!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, "No... I don't _know_, House. Look, I'm mostly upset as to why you couldn't just... take him to your bed."

House's eyes dipped to the sheets, "I can't answer that."

"You're lying."

He raised his gaze to meet Wilson's eyes. "It was the heat of the moment and he went into your room and I figured why not?" He leered, "I'm getting older and getting up is getting harder."

Wilson rolled his eyes, and continued to stare at him. He obviously didn't believe that. "There's no heat of the moment with a hooker, House. It was planned. Stop lying and just tell me the truth."

House blinked and swallowed, staring at him. Wilson wasn't moving either. Taking this chance meant a lot. Could ruin a lot. Suddenly he missed drugs and alcohol very much. Everything was much easier when he didn't give a fuck.

Wilson broke his quiet reverie, "Why can't you – "

"I love you." House interrupted, leaning on his cane with both hands in front of him. Wilson's lips parted slightly as he gave a short head shake, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I hired him because he looked like you and we did it in your room on purpose. It's why I kept your sheets," He motioned toward them with a curt nod of his head, "They smell like you."

Wilson's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at House confused, "You... ?"

House lowered his head slightly, giving a quick nod in acknowledgment. Wilson apparently was at a loss of words and turned to leave when House reached out quickly with his cane, pressing it firmly against the wall to block his path, Wilson glared at him, furious. "It's true."

"I don't believe you."

"That's where I was today." He swallowed again, wondering if he should really be telling Wilson about his sessions. Surely his therapist wouldn't object, he was being open after all. "I talked to Nolan about it."

"And... ?"

House lowered his cane slowly, as an expression of sudden understanding dawned upon his face, "And, he told me this was a bad idea." He nodded to Wilson, his voice like gravel, "He was right."

With Wilson watching him in what appeared to be shock, he suddenly reached forward and grabbed the doorknob, making his way quickly out the door.

* * *

It took three days, seven hours, and sixteen minutes before House could come back to the loft and sleep comfortably in his own bed, carefully avoiding Wilson when he could.

It was another five days, four hours, and eleven minutes before he stopped avoiding Wilson completely, even regularly going to him for a consult or the like.

And it took another week before Wilson finally became more comfortable around him again, seemingly forgetting(something House thanked his non-existent gods for) whether purposely or not, all that had transpired between them a while ago.

Or so he thought.

Wilson had paged House to his office, who came rather quickly, because Wilson never paged him and he was kind of worried, not that he'd admit it to anyone, of course.

"Wilson." He had said, walking through the open door, only there was no one in sight. Suddenly, there was a click and he turned to look behind him only to find Wilson standing there, his hand on the doorknob. He had closed it, and was now proceeding to lock it. House stared on at him, his eyes questioning. "Be quick, I've got a patient bleeding outta their ass." He paused for dramatic effect, "Literally."

"I've been thinking."

"Should you be doing that? It's hazardous to your health." House replied, not missing a beat.

However, Wilson ignored him and strode closer to his friend, now a mere few inches apart. House felt his stomach tighten as he watched him.

"Should I ask – " House assumed the end of his sentence was going to be somewhere along the lines of asking Wilson whether or not he should ask what he was thinking about, but he didn't get a chance.

His lips were currently sealed. With a kiss.

And as much as he wishes he could(just to study the mechanics of it), he wasn't kissing himself.

Cool, slightly chapped lips where moving against his own and so he didn't move, but he didn't exactly reciprocate either, his eyes closing.

Seven seconds later, it had ended as quickly as it started, Wilson slowly pulling away from his mouth, their lips sticking together momentarily as they parted and House's eyes slowly opened again.

Wilson watched him, "Well, that wasn't so bad."

House was silent, his lips firmly pressed into a thin line. "You're not gay."

"I'm not."

"You're holding your need to vomit back pretty well."

"I am an oncologist, comes with the job."

"And straight."

"As an arrow."

House pursed his lips as he watched Wilson sigh heavily, he had no idea what else to say; admittedly he was a little put out by that.

"Your reaction was almost disappointing."

"You know me, just a little ol' ball of sunshine." He deadpanned, eying Wilson warily. "Why'd you call me?"

"I wanted to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about; everything's in the past."

"We just _kissed_, that's something to talk about."

"_You_ kissed _me_. As far as I'm concerned, you molested my lips."

Wilson sputtered, "_Wha_- House, I don't understand you."

"Understand _me_? I don't go around randomly trapping cripples in offices and then try to have my way with them. There are therapists for that." He turned and made his way over to Wilson's desk, sparing him a quick glance over his shoulder, "At least there would be, if this were a common occurrence."

"House, seriously – " The older doctor swiped at the top of the desk, knocking half the contents to the floor and Wilson cringed, as he watched House sit upon it, "Let's talk about this."

"My leg." He said matter-of-factly, as if Wilson didn't know, "It's hard for me to stand now-a-days. Or now-a-years. Take your pick." Wilson nodded absentmindedly as he moved to stand closer to House, who suddenly reached out with his cane, and poked him in the chest, "Nuh-uh, you stay at canes length."

"Fair enough." He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing before finally looking up at his friend, "Okay look, I freaked out a little bit, when you said... what you said. I couldn't believe after all this time, you've been, seeing me like that. Exactly how long have you..." He trailed off, House hung his head slightly and avoided eye contact, "A long time, huh? After Amber?"

Blue eyes shot up, staring him down, "_Before_ that."

"Alright, yeah. Wow." Wilson was a little put off, if what House was saying was true, it had been literally years. He didn't know how to react to that. House either had amazing willpower, or – "How come you never said anything then?"

The expression House gave Wilson made him feel like the stupidest man alive, "All your wives, your girlfriends, you think even if I wanted to say anything, I could? Besides, even with all your 'gay' tendencies, you're not exactly strictly dickly."

"We could've worked something out."

"Worked something – ! Are you out of your mind! What exactly could we have worked out?"

Wilson fumbled, he didn't know _why_ he said it, he just did, "You still should've said something."

"And ruin the only good thing I had going for me?" House cried, "I did, and look where it got me! You avoided me for weeks, we're already pretty shaky as is! Like hell I would've said something if it weren't for my fuck up!"

Silence then; it hung in the air, thick with tension, House's voice still ringing in his ears. And yet Wilson had so many questions, he wanted to understand this, he really and truly did.

"The prostitutes... Have they always been male?" He asked, cutting the silence.

House scratched at his beard, "Only when you're gone."

"So, explain to me the prostitutes." He prodded and House huffed, remaining silent, "Look, you owe me this. I deserve some type of explanation after what you did."

House sighed as he placed his head in his hand, rubbing his forehead warily, "I... found some that looked like you, and we had sex."

"That's not what I want to hear."

"They fucked my brains out?"

"House."

"Well what do you want me to say?"

"The truth!"

"I _am_ telling you the truth! I found some that looked like you, brought them home and they fucked me good." Wilson flinched as House poked him in the chest with his cane again, "I came damn hard, _every_ time. And when I came, " He poked him again, rougher, "It was _your_ name outta _my_ mouth."

"Uh... I see."

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" House hopped down from the desk, moving toward Wilson.

"Well – "

"I can go into _explicit_ detail if you like."

"I don't think – "

"It was pretty hot actually. The way they pinned me to the bed, fucked me rough and hard, and called my name as I called yours."

"Look – "

"But they're just hookers, you know? They fuck me, and they leave. They're six-hundred dollars richer, and I'm just as alone as I was the night before. For an extra fifty, I can make them say, _'I'll see you at work later, House'._ And then I see you the next day, and for a moment I can pretend."

Wilson frowned, suddenly realizing his friend's emotions went a lot deeper than sex, "I think I under – "

"You don't _understand_ anything." Wilson retreated almost involuntarily as House invaded his personal space until his back hit the door with an audible thud. "You really have _no_ idea."

"Please, House – "

"_Pining_ after you," House scoffed at his choice of word, "Like some damn lovesick school girl."

"Hey look – "

"Did the DBS for you _just_ because _you_ fucking asked!" He spat, obvious disdain in his voice for revealing what he would assume to be shameful for someone of his character. "I was gotdamn putty in your hands."

Wilson stayed silent, for he had no retort, and just stared back into the ice blue eyes that stared him down.

Suddenly, lips were on his again, except this time House had initiated it, his body pressing tightly against his, pushing him harder into the door. He didn't know what to do, trapped underneath the other man, who pulled his shirt from his pants. Seconds later he felt warm hands wrapped around his waist against his flesh, as House then began to kiss under his chin, forcing him to tilt his head back as much as he could against the door.

He closed his eyes, it wasn't too bad, having House on him like this, a bit weird being another man, but not bad. Maybe because it was House. The thought of doing this with a random guy, while not bothersome, wasn't very appealing. Still, his body didn't know how to respond to the onslaught and so he just stood there, hands at his sides as House continued to touch and kiss him.

And then, it stopped.

He opened his eyes slowly, to see House still there, their bodies pressed together. His forehead pressed against the wall to the right of Wilson's head.

"House...?"

"Don't do this."

"Don't do what?"

Wilson jumped when a loud bang sounded in his ear from his left as House slammed his hand onto the door. "This!"

"I didn't mean – "

"We could've left this alone."

"House – "

"We were _fine_!" He yelled, pushing himself away from Wilson, "Until _you_ ruined everything!"

"Hey that's not – "

"Until _I_ ruined everything."

Wilson sighed, as he ran his hands through his hair, "Look, you didn't ruin anything. I just... wanted to understand what was going on."

"There was nothing to understand, Wilson. Sometimes, it just is what it is."

Wilson was exasperated to hear such words come from his friend. "It is _never_ like that with you. You _push_; you _prod_; you _pull_, until you get the answer _you_ want. And sometimes, you don't stop even then." House rolled his eyes, and he ignored him, "So excuse me for wanting to know more, and wanting to understand where you were coming from for once."

"And sometimes, you shouldn't push forward. Some of you mortals just can't handle the truth of what is."

"Oh, and like you can?"

"Better than you."

"That's _not_ fair. You can sit here and poke holes in people until they leak with information you want, and when a friend – who is trying to _understand_ you – does it, it's suddenly wrong?"

"I'm totally the exception to the rule!" House rolled his eyes, exasperated, "Because when _I_ poke holes – " Suddenly his gaze fixed intently at the door behind Wilson, his mouth parted slightly as he stopped mid-sentence, lost in thought.

Wilson rolled his eyes in turn and unlocked the door. As he opened it, he turned to House, "I know. Just go." Without another word, House sped past him, and Wilson shouted to his back as he watched the older man make his way toward the elevator "We're going to finish this!"

"Already finished!" House yelled back, stepping into the elevator and slamming the tip of his cane into one of the floor buttons.

* * *

Wilson pulled up to the loft, parking in the driveway, as he turned off the lights he sighed a bit; slightly angry at House.

Wilson had waited around a bit longer at the hospital after he was already supposed to go home. While in House's office, Taub stopped by to pick up his coat, who then told him that after checking in on his patient and subsequently curing them, House had skipped out and went home.

Wilson rolled his eyes, of course he would, why was he surprised?

When he made his way into his home, he noticed it was dark, all the lights were off, as if trying to make it seem like no one was home. Shaking his head, he knocked on House's door when he came to it. "I know you're here, House."

A muffled voice came from behind the door, "Maybe. Or I'm a ghost. I'd run if I were you."

Wilson smirked as he opened the door, he reached for the light switch on the wall, fumbling in the pitch darkness for it. Finally, he found it, flicking it on, only to find House lying in bed on his back, legs crossed at the ankle, and his hands behind his head. "Hey."

House grunted in acknowledgment.

Standing beside House's bed, he sighed heavily, "We really should talk."

"We are talking."

"House, you know what I mean."

"Well, now I'm just confused. I could've sworn this is what people called talking."

"_House_."

"There's nothing more to say."

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, House." Wilson paused for a second. "Look at me. I mean it."

House continued to speak at the ceiling. "_I_ mean it. What can you do? What do you want to do?"

"I want to make it right."

"Make what right? You're not in the wrong here."

"Neither are you."

"And yet, here we are." House turned his head slightly, to look him in the eye as he spoke, causing Wilson to shuffle lightly under his gaze. "There's nothing for us to do. We just go on."

"Like nothing ever happened."

"He _can_ be taught!" House exclaimed, thrusting his pointer finger in the air.

"House."

"It's simple. Just ignore the part where I bared my soul to you."

"I can't do that."

"I can."

"Going to go back to your hookers, then?"

House grit his teeth, "Well, since you're not exactly putting out..."

"You never asked."

"You're not _gay_." He quickly retorted.

"You keep saying that. What does that have to do with anything?"

House's eyes narrowed as he glared at his friend, "That has everything to do with it!"

"We could try something," House was sitting now, staring at him with bewildered horror, like he had grown a second head, "You know. Like a trial or something."

"What the fuck are you on?"

"I'm not on – "

"Get me some. Maybe I can pretend I have full use of my leg while you pretend to like the cock."

Wilson rolled his eyes yet again, walking over to him until he stood before him. "House."

"Why do you keep pushing this?"

Wilson said nothing as he stared down at House, his ice blue eyes staring back up at him in wonder. He looked so tired, and so angry. He leaned down slowly, his eyes open as he watched the older man, watch him; his eyes closing as he pressed his lips to House's.

When it was over, House was the first to speak. "You can't want this."

"I realized something."

"That you've gone fucking insane?"

Wilson ignored him. "You have a relationship with me."

"What?"

"And sex when you wanted it, with those hookers." Wilson smiled sheepishly, his hand suddenly at the back of his neck, his nervous habit kicking in. "Look, I don't want you to see the hookers any more."

"_What?_"

"Because you can't see them if we're dating."

House cocked his head slightly as he started at Wilson, his voice monotone when he spoke, "You have _got_ to be shitting me."

"No," Wilson nodded slowly, as he licked his lips, "No, I don't think I am."

"What the – "

"Just _listen!_" Wilson hissed and House glared at him, "Listen, I – you're my best friend."

"And that's _all._"

"Shut _up _and_ listen _for _once_ in your _gotdamned_ life._" _He ground out, exasperated already. House nodded, pursing his lips. When he realized the older man was going to finally listen, he continued, "We've been friends for a long, long time. You're the only relationship I've ever kept." He gave House a pointed look when he saw the other open his mouth, "That is _not_ to say I'm doing this because of _that._" He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, "I'm saying this because, apparently, I make you happy, right?"

House nodded curtly.

"Yeah, exactly. I want to keep doing that. Making you happy that is. So... I'm willing to give this – us – a try."

Silence hung over them for a few moments at House stared at him, expression unchanged as Wilson looked anywhere but him. Finally Wilson chanced at look at him, and sighed, "...Say something?"

House's expression changed to that of mock surprise, "Oh, I can speak now?"

"House." Wilson sighed heavily and closed his eyes, his head drooping back, clearly agitated, "Come on."

"What do you want me to say?"

"What do you think?"

"You're fucking stupid."

"Christ, House, I try to do something nice – "

"That's my point, you're not doing this for _me_. You're doing it to be _nice_. I don't want your pity fucks. Even if they'd be hot."

"They wouldn't be pity fucks, but they would be hot."

"I'm not going to accept this because you want to be _nice_."

"I didn't really mean it like that. I just meant that I would not be be totally adverse to... spending time with you, romantically."

"That makes _much_ more sense, Commander Spock."

Wilson's brows furrowed, "What...?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Right. Anyway, maybe I'm a little curious."

"Curious enough to go gay for your old and crippled best friend."

"Well, you're still pretty hot for a guy. We can just say it was your charming good looks and... _overbearing_ personality that swayed me."

"Don't flatter me so much, it'll go to my head."

"Which one?"

House smirked, "Nice."

"I try." He smiled as he moved closer, "So...?"

House stared up at him, "Do what you want."

"And...?"

"And, I guess I could go along with it."

"I won't hurt you, House."

"Until you decide you're not gay."

Wilson bit his lip for a moment, it was a truth he wasn't willing to look at just yet. "Yeah, maybe. But, why not try? It won't kill you."

House didn't have the heart to tell him it just might. "Yeah."

Wilson leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his friends forehead, who closed his eyes, "I'll try my best to make you happy."

"Yeah."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." He said, a touch of humour in his voice.

"Yep." House nodded, quickly glancing up at Wilson, only to avert his gaze seconds later. "Can I go back to bed now?"

Wilson blinked, "Huh? Yeah. Sure. Sorry."

"I'm just tired."

"Yeah, I know." Wilson walked backwards a bit, "I guess... I'll see you at work tomorrow, House."

House looked up just as Wilson made his way out the door, shutting it softly behind him. He let out a breath and let himself fall onto his bed.

What the fuck was he doing? Wilson was going to have his fling and decide he wasn't what he wanted later and then sleep with a dozen floozy's just to prove his masculinity. He _knew_ this.

Suddenly, his door opened once more and he looked over to see a sheepish looking Wilson standing there, "I, uh... Sorry, it's just that – " He shrugged, cutting himself off as he made his way over to House, leaning down and quickly pressing a soft, hurried kiss to his lips. "Goodnight, House."

When Wilson pulled away, House opened his eyes as the other man gave him a lopsided grin, and quickly trotted out of his room. He huffed a bit, speaking lowly to his now empty room. "G'night."

He closed his eyes again. Hopefully, the old saying would prove true.

It'd be fun while it lasted.

* * *

_**A/N:** I always wanted to write a fic where one of the characters would go(attempt) gay for the other, just out of want to really make that person happy. I don't believe a person can just simply turn gay, that's not what I'm implying. I'm talking about someone caring for someone so deeply, that they could look past gender to try and make that person genuinely happy. Besides, this is fanfiction, it's just a collection of what-if questions we propose to others everyday._

_In any case, I want to add more to this. I don't know why I ended it that way, I couldn't think of more. I might add another chapter. Dunno. Seemed like a good place to end it at the time. However, I want to write a companion piece to this where Wilson is gay and House is not. I'm looking forward to that, because I think House would probably be a little more willing about it. Can't wait. Anyway, if you took the time to read my rambling, thank you._


End file.
